


Tattoo, the Same

by likethechesspiece



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F, Tattoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-13 23:27:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11770662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likethechesspiece/pseuds/likethechesspiece
Summary: After more than enough angst, Myka and Helena finally come together for a night of passion and emotion. In the midst of their encounter, Myka discovers that Helena has a tattoo, and that they truly were meant to be.





	Tattoo, the Same

At the sensation of lips dragging up her neck, wet to dry and then warm and latching on, Helena’s eyes rolled back into her head. She let out a deep throaty moan, grasping Myka to her shamelessly. The other woman’s shirt was switching between straining against her skin as Helena pulled at it, and then crumpled tightly between the Englishwoman’s hands. She couldn’t believe what was happening, but was so relieved, glad, needing of it at the same time. As much as she tried to be subtle with her feelings, it had never been her strong suit, and so she knew that her affections for Myka were hardly unnoticeable.

It had been a month since the SUV had driven off into the night, Pete at the wheel and Myka practically climbing out the window to wave to her. She was standing in a driveway of a home that wasn’t hers and didn’t feel anything like what she told herself a normal home would be. A flash of thought ran down to her thighs and she felt for a moment relaxed at the thought that home would be straddling Myka in that car and driving away with her. But she wasn’t. Feet planted to the earth, betraying her, she had waved back more pitifully than she had meant; but it reflected her feelings, and if Myka hadn’t been growing further away from her, she was sure that the American would’ve been able to see the pain on her face.

Now, she was sure that even if Myka’s eyes were closed, she would definitely be able to see in her mind’s eye the pleasure on her face, if only told as much by her moans and helpless fingernails digging into flesh. The other woman came up, her lips guiding her, and then kisses were being pressed to Helena’s jawline, cheek, the edge of her smile, and then claiming her lips. In Myka’s breaths to survive, Helena tasted the whiskey on the American’s breath, swirling and warm with the rose of her perfume.

Boone was a long-forgotten memory, a nightmare even of lying to herself and the one person she never wanted to lie to, and she had moved to Chicago to feel her face burn in the wind before going numb like the rest of her. She had a small apartment, a studio one, and she was working all hours of the day as another medical examiner, still telling herself to find normal, to live it, but always coming short. Fortune was in her favour, their favour, and she went to a bar down the road one night after work, feeling worn but not dead yet. She was slowly drowning in herself, and when she first heard it, she thought it a trick of her mind, but then it occurred over and over again.

It stopped after her fourth glass of wine, and her head was floaty and heavy all at once. The longer she refrained from blinking, the more the world seemed to fade to black in scope until there was just a bright dot of light in front of her and the sounds of someone sitting on the stool next to her. A warm hand, shaking and clammy touched her shoulder. She didn’t respond, taking it for an accident, and bowed her head, coning herself in her hair, but then that hand came up again. Delicate fingertips, scared of breaking or of doing the breaking, curtained back her hair and tucked it behind her ear, and only then did she turn.

The gesture had sent shivers across her skin, but when she turned, shivers ran through her bones. Myka sat, lips parted and in shock, a flush to her cheeks that was reminiscent of perhaps too much alcohol herself. She didn’t, couldn’t, say anything, but her hand remained hovering about Helena’s cheek. In a moment of emotion, unsure if this was actually real, Helena turned her cheek into the hand that caught her, gasping and feeling her body warm and come to life. Myka was really there.

Myka’s hand pressed into her skin just as much as was being given and leaned across the space between them, from stool to stool. Her other hand came to Helena’s thighs as they both turned to face each other, then slipped between them and hooked onto the base of the chair. She pulled her closer in a rough, jerking motion, their knees bumping and the energy between them heightening yet again. That hand of Myka’s let go of the stool and slid back up teasingly, or daringly between Helena’s thighs, pressing in and then grabbing at. Myka squeezed at the Englishwoman’s thigh as her other hand slipped behind her neck, thumb still at her cheek and jawline, and pulled her in.

Helena gasped at the action, now regretting the wine for it clouded her focus, but then Myka’s words were clear enough for her to understand. “I hate you.” Her eyes flashed up and she could feel them burn, a combination of not blinking, and tears. She searched the eyes across from her, wanting there to be the opposite in them. She couldn’t see hate, but after not looking into those eyes, after avoiding them at all costs for so long, she found herself unable to read them like she used to.

“I hate you because I love you and you left me.”

Helena sighed, and felt her throat burn. Usually, she would order another drink to cool it, to ease it back into numbness, but now she only found herself wanting to drown it in Myka. She wanted to dive in and drown in Myka. So, she did.

She leaned forward and pressed her lips sloppily to Myka’s, her own hands finally coming across and down to grab at the other woman’s thighs, then waist, then around to her ass as she stepped off her stool. She stepped in between the American’s knees as she continued to kiss her. Myka pushed back, her hand coming to ease Helena’s away from her ass, and so she relented, bowing her head. But she could still feel Myka’s hand at her neck, squeezing and beginning to tug at her hair, so she looked back up.

Myka was only removing Helena’s hand to reach the few folded notes in her back pocket, slamming them down shakily on the counter between their two drinks and bringing her face back into Helena’s breathing space. She paused a moment, waiting for Helena to catch on, and when she did, that devilish smile of hers crept across her lips and Myka was gone all over again.

“Let me love you,” Helena whispered. She wasn’t going to say no, or anything, so Myka simply brought their lips back together briefly before pulling away and dragging Helena with her as she strode away.

Soon, they were in an elevator, and Helena was using the handrail to steady herself with one hand as Myka dragged her nails across her clothed skin. She grabbed at Myka’s hair with her other hand and brought their lips together again. If the doors hadn’t opened when they did, she was sure that Myka’s hand would’ve wandered into her pants next. But the doors had, and so they had to regather themselves as they stepped off and others stepped on, walking down to Myka’s door. Helena followed gladly, flicking her eyes all over Myka’s body and then to their clasped hands.

As soon as the door had opened, Helena pushed her in and kicked the door shut. They stumbled blindly to the bed and just as Helena was about to push Myka down, she was spun around and pushed down instead. She flopped down, and opened her eyes to see Myka standing predatorily over her, masked in shadows but illuminated in moonlight through her window. A moment later, Myka came down to her and lips were on her neck.

Shirts were removed and Myka found enjoyment in pressing sloppy kisses to the swells of Helena’s breasts as her chest rose, panting. Helena’s hands were still grabbing at Myka, running her curls though her fingers, as the American’s nails ran down her waist to the edge of her jeans. Helena looked down her body as Myka undid them, sliding the zip down far too slowly, making her buck her hips in impatience. She whimpered despite her best efforts when Myka began to draw lazy circles on her lower abdomen with her tongue, tugging down her jeans just as slowly.

When her thighs were bared, Myka moved down to them, kissing the warm skin and goose bumps that arose at the sensation. In a moment of realisation breaking through the blur of alcohol, she opened her eyes to gaze down at the other woman’s body, and up to her face, her chest, her bare skin. The lighting was dim, and shadows were deceptive, but Myka was sure she saw something on Helena’s thigh. She grabbed at Helena and rolled her so she could get a better view.

Helena released a short breathy laugh at Myka’s sudden discovery. It was a tattoo; a gothic oval frame with vines and roses inside overflowing from the frame, no colour and very fine detailing, bold scripture scrawled across it. “When... you have a tattoo.”

“Yeah,” Helena hushed back.

“When? It doesn’t feel new.”

“I got it in... oh... eighteen-eighty...”

“Wait, you got it before you were bronzed?” Myka asked, pulling herself up to kneel by hooking her hands behind Helena’s knees.

“Well, I didn’t very well get it _while_ I was bronzed,” she shot back sarcastically, warranting a playful slap at her bare thigh from the other woman. “But yes, I got it before I was bronzed. Before I even had Christina.”

“I had no idea,” Myka mused, biting her lips a little at the end.

“Myka...” Helena hummed, sitting up and leaning into the other woman’s space. “Do you like it?”

“Well, I didn’t really get a good look.”

“No, silly. I mean... does it... turn you on?” Helena asked softly, innocently even. Myka’s gaze faulted, and she looked down, her cheeks growing warm with an intense blush as she did. She took a deep breath, and then adjusted her grip slowly behind Helena’s knees, one finger wrapping back around at a time. That giddy look in her eyes that flashed a second ago vanished as she looked back up, through hooded eyes and a smirk. That was her answer.

She leaned in, pulling Helena nearer as she did, and brought their lips carefully back together, kissing her slowly. After a moment she deepened the kiss, slipping her tongue into Helena’s mouth to run along her teeth. Pulling back to breathe, Helena muttered, “bite me,” a command, and Myka obliged, biting down on Helena’s lip hard enough to leave a mark when she pulled back.

“What does it say?” Myka asked, her breath tickling the other woman’s hot lips. “I saw writing, but I can’t read it in this light without my glasses.”

“It’s a quote, actually. By Shakespeare, so I’m sure you’ll enjoy.” Helena turned her attention to her leg, and Myka followed, so she pointed to the words as she said them. “Simply the thing I am shall make me live.” A moment of pause, and Helena thought Myka was simply listening to her words, but then she was pulling away and getting off the bed.

Myka began to tug at her pants, unbuttoning them and shimmying the tight jeans down her thighs. They weren’t going down fast enough and she began to grunt. “Myka,” Helena said, reaching out. “Let me do that for you,” a more seductive tone.

“Just pull the ankles,” the other woman said as she flopped down to the bed on her back. Helena got up and kicked the rest of her jeans off, clinging to her own ankles before tackling Myka’s. The long and tight denim slid off after a few sharp tugs and then Myka was tucking her knees up and pointing to her outer ankle. “I have the same quote.”

“Really?” Helena asked, totally amazed as she crawled onto the bed and held Myka’s ankle in her hands. She read the words and they were the same, and she wondered how she’d never noticed before. “Have I never seen your ankles?”

“I suppose not. I guess I was either in long pants or long socks.”

“How strange is that, though; we got the same words tattooed on us a century apart!” She knew she looked completely dumbfounded, and the wine probably wasn’t helping as to how excited she was about the fact.

Myka looked slightly dumbfounded too, but more emotional somehow. She reached forward and pulled gently at Helena for her to come closer. Outstretching her legs, she watched enthralled as the Englishwoman straddled her.

“Helena...”

“I love you,” the Englishwoman rushed, needing to say the words, to have Myka hear them and to hear them herself.

“You and me...” Myka began, looking deep into Helena’s eyes as the other woman’s hands slipped into her hair. “We’re meant to be.” A pause, a sigh of relief, and the racing of heartbeats continued as they smiled before kissing and falling back into each other again.

**Author's Note:**

> See!? They're meant to be!!! Ya'll know the drill, come and chat to me on here or on tumblr @ lesbiankissesinspace.tumblr.com xo


End file.
